Under the Rising Moon
by Silverstarfox
Summary: On the Ripple Creek Werewolf Reservation, a killer is on the loose. Three woman are dead, their bodies mutilated and faces slashed. A fourth, Lucy Heartfilia's twin, lies in hospital, fighting for her life. Psychically linked, Lucy shared the horror of her twin's attack and makes a vow to hunt down the killer. The rangers believe the killer is a member of the Dryaer pack.
1. Chapter 1

Under the Rising Moon

On the Ripple Creek Werewolf Reservation, a killer is on the loose. Three women are dead, their bodies mutilated and faces slashed. A fourth, Lucy Heartfilia's twin, lies in hospital, fighting for her life. Psychically linked, Lucy shared the horror of her twin's attack and makes a vow to hunt down the killer. The Rangers believe the killer is a member of the Dreyar pack. To begin the hunt, Lucy will first have to seduce a Dreyar, as she knows they will never talk to an outsider.

The only wolf not under suspicion is one with a hard-drinking, hard-loving reputation: Laxus Dreyar. Called back home to help find the killer, he wants nothing more than to complete his task and get out of the town he loathes. However, he finds himself ensnared in a growing web of desire and deceit and, as the murders continue – and the killer's shadow draws ever closer – Laxus and Lucy find themselves having to trust each other in order to survive. But can they trust the emotions flaring between them? Or will the lies of the present, the deeds of the past and a killers bloody intentions tear them apart?

Chapter One

The music swirled through the darkness, its beat rich, seductive. Night cloaked the ballroom, a mantle challenged only by the occasional flicker of a torch burning high on the rough-hewn stone walls. On the dance floor, couples swayed to the music, their bodies so close they almost seemed one. Heat and sweat mingled with the growing odour of lust and longing. Scents that stirred her senses, made her hunger.

Lucy Heartfilia looked uneasily over her shoulder. Though the moon was lost to the clouds in the night sky, she could feel its presence. Feel its power. The full moon was too close. She shouldn't be here. Shouldn't be doing this when the wildness within was so close to the surface. But she'd made promises. And she intended to see them through, no matter what the cost.

She let her gaze roam the dance floor again. Somewhere down there, a killer lurked. A man who was using this secluded, exotic retreat as his own private hunting ground. A man she had very intention of finding. And slaying.

She raised her glass and finished the last of her wine. The alcohol slithered warm through her body, and perspiration beaded her skin. Hunger rose, flashing white-hot through her veins. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. _Not tonight. Please, not tonight._

But the pulsing need suggested it was already too late for such prayers. The wildness had awoken. It would not remain leashed for long. Maybe she shouldn't even bother trying. The killer seemed to be choosing the more adventurous of this wanton crowd. Unleashing the wildness might be quickest way of attracting his attention.

Bile rose up her throat, and she swallowed heavily. While she had no real choice about what she had to do tonight, she wasn't about to give the wolf within free rein. She wasn't like any of the hunters who danced on the floor below. Her world was sunshine and restraint, of trying to live normally.

These people rejoiced in the night and the power of the moon. They came to this mansion for the freedom and the safety if offered, seeking to sate the moon-spun lust surging through their veins. That was why most of the men were naked. Why most of the women wore little more than wisps of material that covered everything and yet left nothing to the imagination. Only their faces were concealed. Once the moon's spell hand faded and sunlight returned, they would fade back to their packs, picking up their lives where they'd left off, not knowing the face of any of those they had chosen to mate with the previous night.

Unlike her pack, these wolves were free spirits, exhilarated by the thrill of the chase, by the excitement of capture and possession. The belief of one mate, one life partner, had never touched these dark halls. But for her promise, she would not be here tonight.

She put her glass aside, then adjusted her ornate mask and made her way down the stairs. The deeper shadows that lined the walls were filled with hunters in various stages of mating. She forced her gaze away, even though the wildness within yearned to watch. Hungered to join them.

Her stomach turned again. God, she hated this place. Hated everything it represented. Given the choice, she'd rather burn the Dreyar estate to the ground than be walking its halls. She wasn't a prude, far from it-she'd given in to the power of the moon more than once herself. But if it wasn't for this place, if it wasn't for the wanton and careless behaviour of its guests, her twin sister would not be lying in hospital close to death. Tears stung her eyes, and she took a deep breath. D _on't think. Just do._

She moved onto the dance floor, inching her way past the slowly dancing couples. Her pulse throbbed in time to the music's heavy beat, and the deep down ache got stronger. She clenched her fists and made her way to the rear exit. She'd spent most of her adult life fighting the worst of her desires, and she would not give in now. Not fully, even here in this place of dark freedom. And yet at the same time she knew she'd do whatever she had to-even unleashing the wildness-if in the end it led her to the man who'd attacked her twin.

She'd studied the files in Elie's office before she'd come down here this evening. The killer had struck three times, each time near dawn and just beyond the boundaries of the Dreyar mansion. The victims were always alone, though forensics had, not surprisingly, found evidence to suggest each victim had taken more than half a dozen lovers the night of their deaths. Elie and the other werewolf rangers who patrolled the Ripple Creek Reservation-which was the mountain homeland of the four Fiore wolf packs-believed the killer was shadowing his victims as they left the mansion, attacking once they were well clear of any help. But they had no proof of this, nothing more than scents and suspicions-neither of which were admissible in court-human or werewolf.

Elie had been following one such scent when she'd been attacked by a silver wolf. Only the fact that she'd been in wolf form herself had saved her. The winter coat of their tribe was thick, and the silver wolf had been unable to gain any true grip around her sister's throat. But even so, her wounds were multiple and life threatening.

Lucy had shared the last, terrifying moments of her twin's horror. And while she'd never wanted to go through something like that again, it was the link between them that had saved her sister. Ashley had siphoned Lucy's stronger psychic abilities and used them to finally fend off the wolf.

Lucy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Even now, her sister's pain edged Lucy's consciousness. When she'd left home this evening, the doctors still weren't sure if Elie would survive. Even she couldn't say with any degree of certainty. Ashley was hanging onto life by the slenderest of margins, and it wouldn't take much to snatch the lifeline away. Which is why Lucy had touched her twin's unresponsive mind and made a silent vow: she'd hunt down the killer and finish what her sister had started, if Elie found the strength to live. It may have been foolish but it was better than sitting at home waiting for the worst.

Of course, she was no ranger. Far from it. She had no idea how to load a weapon let alone shoot, and she only had a wolf's natural skills when it came to tracking. But she was far from defenceless. Like most of the wolves of her tribe, she rated high in telepathy, but she was almost off the scale when it came to empathy. The two could be a deadly weapon if one knew how to use them properly- as the wolf who'd attacked Elie had found out.

So far tonight, Lucy had keep her shields well up. Skimming the minds of hunters when the moon bloomed was far too dangerous and would attract the kind of sexual interest she was trying to avoid. Besides, she might alert the killer she was here, seeking him. The rangers believed it was probably one of the Dreyars behind the killings, but they were a large and close-mouth pack and had yet to provide the rangers with any real help. And while the Dreyars were all silver wolfs, they did not have a monopoly on the coat. Even in her pack which were primarily golden-coated, silver could be found.

She'd never find the killer roaming the outskirts. It was doubtful if even the rangers could. It had to be done from within the Dreyar stronghold. And there was only one way she could achieve that. Goose bumps skated across her skin, and she sent a silent prayer to the moon for strength.

She's spent a good part of the day studying the Dreyar lineage. The wolf she'd chosen to seduce was the pack leader's third son. By all accounts he was wildest of them all, but he was the only one who'd been away when the first two murders were committed. Safe-or as safe as any of the Dreyars could be.

She'd also spent time studying the mansion's floor plans before coming here, and she had talked to Karen, a regular customer at her family's diner. Though barely thirty-six, Karen had been attending moon dances at the mansion for a good twenty years and knew the place almost as well as the Dreyars themselves. It had been Karen who told her that Laxus Dreyar rarely joined the dance before midnight, and that before then he could usually be found close to his rooms on the west side of the mansion.

She hurried out the rear doors. The night breeze stirred her flimsy skirt. Its touch was cool against the fever-kissed skin of her thighs. She glanced skyward again, judging the time by the position of the moon she could feel, not see. Close to midnight. She had to hurry. She tugged the delicate material clear of her bare feet and ran to the back of the mansion.

A cherub-filled fountain came into sight. She slowed, scanning the windows until she found his. Her heart was beating so fast it felt as if it would tear free of her chest, and she knew its cause was fear, not exertion. She'd never done anything like this before. Didn't know if she even had what it took to attract, and hold, a wolf with Laxus Dreyar's experience. But she had to try. It was the safest way to gain full access to the mansion.

She could only smell one wolf in the rooms above, and there were no others in the immediate area. Karen's information had certainly been accurate. If she pulled this off, she was going to keep the woman supplied with free coffee for the next year.

She walked over to the fountain and stripped off the flimsy excuse for a gown. Then she stepped into the icy water, avoiding the worst of the water-tossing cherubs as she turned her attention to his window.

Everything she'd learned about him suggested he liked a chase and preferred his mates to be sexually adventurous. While she could never claim to be that, she was a wolf and the moon was high. And Karen had offered more than a few tips. But she couldn't exactly sent out a blatant invitation to the man. The rules of the moon dance said no names, so she had to be a little more devious. The Dreyars were the only other wolf pack who were strong telepaths, so she just had to make it seem he was catching her thoughts.

 _Lord, I ache tonight._ She kept her mind voice breathy, wistful. For several tense seconds, nothing happened, then his presence stirred and walked over the windows. She dipped her fingers into the water and wet her neck, letting the cool droplets dribble between her breasts. Hunger surged through the night, a force so strong it almost knocked her over. His need for the dance was high. Very high. The thought churned her stomach, but she was here now and would not back away.

She let her gaze roam the windows until she saw him. If his shadow was to be believed, he was big. Bigger than she'd expected. She cupped another handful of water, sipping it quickly to ease the dryness in her throat.

 _Why do you ache? The moon is high and night free._ His mind voice was rich, husky, and stirred her senses with longing. She clenched her fists. She had to remain in control. She couldn't let the wildness free.

 _Perhaps I am choosy._

 _You can be choosy as many times as you like on a night like this._ Amusement swam across her senses, warm and sensual.

 _Perhaps I long for a more careful seduction once the initial fire has passed._ His silhouette stirred. She caught a glimpse of a muscular arm before the shadows closed in again. _A difficult request when the moon rides high._

 _So it would seem._ She arched her back, stretching her arms skywards. The emotive swirl of his thoughts became a wall of heat. He wanted her, of that she was certain. Whether he would take her was unclear. He hadn't yet moved from his dark hideaway.

 _Perhaps I should go home. The moon, it seems, offers no comfort tonight._

He hesitated. _Perhaps we should talk more on the matter._ The bait had been taken. Now to snare him fully. But the elation that ran through her was tempered by the knowledge that true victory would mean spending the rest of the week in this man's bed. But it was a small price to pay when her sister's life hung in the balance.

She considered him a moment longer, not wanting to seem too eager. _You are little more than a shadow to me. I cannot discuss possibilities with someone I cannot see._ The French windows opened, and he stepped out onto the balcony. Her heart slammed in her chest, then it seemed to drop somewhere in the vicinity of her toes.

He was tall, close to six foot, if not over, his build quietly powerful, but lean like an athlete's. His hair was dark blonde and long, full of unruly waves that brushed his shoulders. His face was that of a dark angel's – beautiful, and yet somehow sinister. And while it may have been true that the eyes are the windows to the soul, this man's were shuttered and painted black. There was nothing to be read in his expression – or lack of it. If not for the sensation of hunger that burned between them, she would have though him uninterested.

 _Do you like what you see?_

She gave a disinterested shrug. _Looks are not the measure of the man._ Even though this man's looks were stirring her in ways no man ever had before.

 _A wise statement from one so young._

She raised her eyebrows, a smile teasing her lips. _And that is a very condescending statement from one so young._

Amusement touched his sensual mouth. He crossed his arms and continued to regard her in that disinterested yet oddly disturbing manner of his. _I have squeezed many years of living into this young body, believe me._ So his reputation had suggested. Had she any other choice, she would have stayed far away from this particular wolf and his hungry, wild ways. But he was the only Dreyar the rangers did not have under suspicion and, therefore, her safest route into the Dreyar stronghold.

 _Ah. Then perhaps you have little interest in one less well travelled._

She picked up her gown and pulled it on. The sheer material clung to her damp breasts and caressed her aching nipples. Again his need swam around her, a blanket that smothered, leaving her breathless. _I did not say that._

 _No._ she hesitated and stepped free of the water, then raised her gaze challengingly to his. _I intend to leave. But if you can find me before I depart these grounds, we shall_ _…_ _talk_ _…_ _more on this matter._ She turned around and walked away, not looking back. Yet his gaze burned into her back as surely as his hunger sent a fever blistering across her skin. He would come for her, she was sure of that. Now all she had to do was pray she could hold his attention for more than just this night.

Laxus Dreyar moved through the crowd, silent as a shadow. Unnoticed, unseen. The music pounded through his veins, a heavy, throbbing beat that matched the need in him. He'd had no intention of joining the dance tonight. He'd wanted nothing more than to complete his task here and leave as quickly as possible. But his intentions had flown out of the window the minute he heard the wanton, wistful thoughts of the female.

He let his gaze roam the darkness. There was still a wealth of unclaimed women ready for the taking, but most of them were long-time participants of the dance, as jaded as the night itself. Not so the wolf who'd played in the fountain outside his rooms. There was a freshness about her, a vibrancy, which suggested she was very new to the mansion and the dance. She was here somewhere. He could sense her. She was a teasing hint of sunshine in the darkness, a caress of warm shyness that taunted the outer edges of his mind.

He wanted her. God, how he wanted her. He continued on through the crowd and made his way out the rear doors. The night breeze rifled cool fingers through his hair, but it failed to ease the fever pulsing through his body.

She was close. The musky scent of femininity stirred the air, mixed with the gentle tang of jasmine. He walked through the strand of aspens that divided this section of the house from the main gardens, his strides long, eating the ground. If she was indeed leaving, she would have to do so through one of three gates. The closest gate to his room lay behind the summer house. He made his way past the grand old pavilion, but her scent didn't linger near the gates. She hadn't come this far yet.

He back tracked to the summer house and there he found her. Stopping in the shadow-filled pavilion, he once again drank in the sight of her. She was small and delicately built-not what he usually chased, that was for sure. Her hair was a silky wave that brushed her hips, and deep gold in colour. She still wore the mansion's gown, and the gossamer material hid little. He hungrily surveyed the lean length of her, from the proud thrust of her breasts to the dark gold triangle of her between her thighs, then down the long length of her legs to her toes and back up again.

Her mask was heavily ornate and hid most of her features. But even from where he stood, he could see her eyes. They were the green of a newborn leaf, rich and exotic.

The heat in his loins became an ache that almost consumed him. He had to have her. Now. He moved out of the shadows. Uncertainty flickered in her beautiful eyes, then she came towards him. Her gaze boldly travelled the length of his body, seeming to linger on the hard evidence of his excitement before finally rising again to his face. Her nipples puckered, straining against the gossamer restraints of her gown, evidence of the desire he could clearly smell.

She entered the pavilion and stopped in front of him. The musky scent of her desire grew stronger, fuelling the already raging need in him. But he wasn't the only one aching with the needs of the night and the moon.

"So you found me."

Her voice was huskier than before, but still as smooth as silk, as rich as velvet. Despite the heat that surged between them, her gaze was cool. Wary.

"Yes."

He touched her cheek, running his fingers down to the warm fullness of her lips. She trembled under his caress, but didn't back away.

"So you wish to discuss the matter further?" she asked.

"No. what I wish is to dance with you."

The words were little more than a formality. She'd basically consented to his advances back there in the fountain. Panic flittered through her eyes, making him wonder just _how_ new she was to the mansion and its ways. Certainly he'd never seen her here before, but he'd been away for nearly ten years.

She swallowed convulsively. "Indeed?"

He moved his hand down the long line of her neck. Her pulse was a wild flutter under his fingertips. "Indeed."

"And what of my desire for a more lingering seduction once the initial fire has gone?"

He let his hand drift down to her breasts and gently rubbed one firm nub through the film of her dress. She shivered, her lips parted a little, as if she couldn't suck in enough air.

"I think that could be arranged."

She closed her eyes briefly. "One night holds no interest for me this phase."

"But you have not yet tried the goods and cannot say whether one might or more will be enough." He leaned close, his mouth capturing hers, gently demanding.

For the briefest of moments, she froze, her lips hard and unyielding under his. Then she sighed and seemed to melt towards him, deepening the kiss, opening her mouth, letting him explore more fully. Heat shivered through his soul, and the urgency increased tenfold. He wanted her as he'd wanted no other in his life, and the effort of holding back, of not taking her right then and there had every muscle trembling. But she had yet to say yes. Until she did, he couldn't fully take her. There were rules, even here in this mansion some called a den of debauchery.

He slid his hand down her waist and found the slit in her skirt. Touched the silk of her thigh and worked upwards. He cupped the triangle of curls then gently delved in her moist heat. Her moan shuddered through him, testing his strength, his will. He delved deeper sliding through her slickness, until her muscles pulsed around one finger, then two. She pressed against him, riding his hand with increasing urgency. Her skin was feverish, flushed with desire and need. A need he understood only too well. She grabbed his shoulders, fingers trembling, nails digging deep.

"By the moon." Her voice was little more than a fractured whisper. "Please…"

Her plea raged across his senses, almost destroying his control. Yet at the same time, an oddly primeval sense of power surged through him. She was his for the taking, whether she'd admitted it yet or not. He stroked harder, faster. Her body shuddered against his, her skin glossy with perspiration. He kissed her ear, ran his tongue down the long line of her neck. She tasted of honey, desire and sunshine-and he knew then she was a wolf who played in the daylight more often than moonlight. They lived in two different realms, but right then, he didn't care. She's stepped into his realm, and he intended to take every advantage of it.

He took a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard through the gossamer material. Her shuddering reached a crescendo, and her cry of pleasure sang through the night. A wave of primitive power surged through him, yet he knew he could take her higher, deeper, than what she had yet tasted. He slid his fingers free of her and began undoing the ties of her gown. Her eyes, darkened by a mix of pleasure and surprise, flew open.

"Dance with me." The ancient yet formal words of binding slipped hastily off his tongue, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper. "Let your body join with mine and rejoice in the power of the divine light."

He slid the gown from her shoulders and let it fall to the ground. Her skin was pale gold silk and glowed softly in the darkness. Her breathing was quick, sharp, every intake seeming to shudder through her entire body.

He pushed her back until she was trapped between the wall of the pavilion and him. The heat of her washed across his senses, and the wild beat of her heart was a siren's song that fuelled his urgency to greater heights. It was all he could do to simply stand there, his body pressed hard against hers, seeking and yet not entering.

"This night," he continued raggedly. "And the remaining nights of this phase."

An odd mix of apprehension and elation ran through her eyes. She took a deep breath, then released it in a shudder. "This night," she whispered. "And the remaining nights."

 _Mine._ With savage exaltation he surged into her. Groaned in bliss as her muscles contracted against him. _God, is there a sweeter sensation on this earth?_ He slid his hands down to her hips and cupped her buttocks. "Wrap your legs around me."

His demand was little more than a growl, but she seemed to understand him. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and her arms slipped around his neck. His movements became hard, fast. Hot flesh slapped hot flesh. There was nothing gentle about this mating. couldn't be, with the heat of the moon riding them both so fiercely. Gentleness would come later, once the initial urgency had gone.

He claimed her mouth, kissing her ferociously. Passionately. Their tongues duelled, explored, the rhythm echoing the thrusting of his hips.

The red tide rose, becoming a wall of pleasure he could not deny. His movements quickened. Deepened. Her gasps reached a second crescendo, and her cries echoed across the silence as her body bucked against his. He came-a hot, torrential release whose force tore a shout from his lips and sent his body rigid.

He couldn't say how long they stood there like that, bodies locked together, the night air gradually cooling their fever-kissed skin. It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours. It could have lasted an eternity, and he wouldn't have cared. He breathed in the scent of her-the sweet flowery tang of jasmine mingled with the more evocative musk of femininity and sex. He couldn't remember a time when he'd felt more satisfied, more fulfilled. And yet there was so much more to come. This delicate beauty had agreed to be his, not only tonight, but for the remainder of the week. They had time to explore each other more fully. It was a thought that sent a jolt of primitive pleasure coursing through his veins. He kissed the pulse point in her neck. Felt the still erratic flutter under his lips.

"Do you have a name?"

It was a question he had no right to ask. No names, no faces. Those were the rules set by his ancestors long ago, rules he'd abided by up until now. But if she was new to this place, she might not be aware of them. There was something about this woman that intrigued him in a way no other had, and he had no intention of simply letting her walking away in the morning without some means of finding her should she decided not to return. Not after he'd sampled the delights she had to offer. Tension crept through her limbs. She was still trembling, but he couldn't sat whether its cause was his closeness or something else.

"Lucy." her breath whispered past his ear, a heated touch that stirred barely sated embers. "Yours."

"Laxus."

She unwrapped her legs from his waist, and he carefully lowered her to the ground. Though her gaze met his without any qualms, the rush of colour through her pale cheeks suggested she was not as bold as she was making out. She tucked silken wisps of gold behind her ears.

"Do you come here often?"

"Not recently. You?"

"My first time." Reluctance filled her voice, and the red bloom in her cheeks grew. "I wasn't sure if I was doing the right thing or not."

He was glad she'd taken the chance. Glad it was he who'd heard her wistful thoughts. He touched a hand to her cheek. "And now?"

A smile teased her lips. "I'm more uncertain than ever."

"Then I shall endeavour to prove your decision to come here was no mistake." He leaned forward, needing to taste her again.

Her eyes widened slightly, and her uncertainty surged, crowding his mind. Despite her promises, she still wasn't sure about him. Not that it matter now. While it was a female's right to pick and choose as she pleased, once she said yes to mating, the male had the right to enforce it. And he would do so, if that's what it took to keep her by his side these next few nights.

Her mouth was warm and sweet under his, and as the kiss deepened, the moon's heat began to burn through his veins again. But this time, he would take his time, pleasure her more fully. A howl sang through the night, the cry of a wolf in trouble. But not just any wolf. His brother.

 _What?_ He broke off the kiss and stepped back. The night was silent for several seconds, then the howl came again. A long, demanding note. Sting was either out of range, or simply too angry to hear any mind contact.

"Trouble?" she rubbed her arms, her eyes haunted, sad. He touched a hand to her cheek and wondered what she sensed. Even though he could feel only anger, the golden wolfs were powerful telepaths. She was probably picking up a whole lot more than him-but she wasn't from his tribe. He had no right, no desire, to involve her in anyway. Even when it came to something as simple as a question.

"I'm afraid so. Will you wait here or would you prefer to go to my rooms?" She hesitated, and her reluctance washed around him. She didn't want to face the moon-hungry pack again, and of that he was fiercely glad. He wasn't in the mood to fight tonight, though he would if another tried to usurp his claim on her.

"Here."

He touched her lips, outlining their kiss-swollen sweetness. "I won't be long."

She nodded, her gaze searching his, green depths filled with uncertain wariness. "Be careful."

He raised an eyebrow, but again restrained the urge to ask what she sensed and called instead to the wildness within him. His body became liquid, flowing from one shape to another, then he was on all fours and running through the trees.

He found Musica just outside the main gates. At his brother's feet lay the mangled, bloody remains of what had been a woman.

Author's Note

This story is my first one in quite a while so I'm a little rusty. This story is a LaLu. I know people don't like that pairing. Please note that I do ship NaLu but for the purpose of this story Laxus fits the build better than Natsu, if you don't like it no one is forcing you to read this story if you don't like my story then don't read and write your own. So if you would like to leave a review please feel free. I have also made some changes to the characters but they are small and not essential to the story. I hope you like my story if you don't tough.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The minute he left the shuddering began. Lucy slid down the wall, hugging her knees close to her chest, taking deep careful breaths. It didn't help the churning in her stomach. Didn't help the deep sense of loathing coursing through her.

Everything she'd believed in, everything she'd been taught, had simply slipped away under the raging of the moon and the smooth skill of his hands. And he'd proven her as wanton as any of those in the hall below, despite the high ideals she'd spouted half her life.

A sob tore up her throat, followed quickly by bile. She scrambled to her feet and raced out to the nearest tree, where she lost what little she'd eaten for dinner. When there was nothing left to lose, she made her way back to the pavilion and sat on the steps.

 _Moons, what was she going to do._

She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. It wouldn't have been so bad if the whole episode had been nothing more than a quick, heated mating in which there had been little pleasure. That was all she'd been expecting, and something she could have survived. But this man's touch was like no other-his caress sang across her skin, his kiss seared her mind. And his scent invaded every pore, claiming her just as surely as his body had.

 _Lord,_ even thinking about him made her ache. And it was _that_ fact, more than anything, that frightened her.

Laxus Dreyar was the wildest of the wild. His ferocious appetite for women and sex was renowned through all the packs-a fact she'd been well aware of when she had set out to seduce him. But she simply hadn't expected her own intense reaction to the man. Her cheeks flamed as she remembered the way she pressed against his hand, wanting, seeking so much more than just his fingers. She howled in pleasure when he'd thrust into her, for moon's sake. _Howled._ She, who'd once sworn to give no wolf the satisfaction of her cries until she met the one destined to be her life-mate.

Laxus wasn't that. Could never be that. By all accounts, the longest he'd ever stayed with a mate was one phase of the moon-which was the second reason she had chosen him. A phase gave her enough time to hunt down the killer then get out.

But after one, all-too-brief dance, she very much suspected she wouldn't _want_ to leave after a week of his caresses. A chill ran down her spine. What if she became so addicted to the fever of his touch that she came back night after night, hungering for something he would no longer give? What if she became just another rabid seeker of pleasure, like so many other in the hall below.

She took a deep breath and tried to calm the frantic direction of her thoughts. One night of pleasure-or two or even three- would not make her a slave of the moon. She was stronger than that. It was stupid to believe the touch of _any_ man could destroy her beliefs in such a short space of time-no matter how good that man's touch was. Her fear, her uncertainty were little more than the shock of discovering she was capable of yielding to the wanton fever of the moon as anyone else here tonight.

It didn't _mean_ anything. Not unless she let her fear and vague sense of humiliation override common sense. She'd come here to do one thing- to find and destroy the man who had attacked her sister. As long as she kept that goal in her mind, she could survive anything.

Even Laxus's touch.

She pushed to her feet, retrieving her gown and quickly donning it. Though it hid little, it as least offered the illusion of clothing. Better than running naked- especially if she came across another hunter in the forest.

She couldn't risk using telepathy, simply because skimming the mind of a hunter like Laxus was dangerous when she had secrets of her own to keep. She turned and followed his scent through the trees. That howl had come from near the main gate- and it had been filled with anguish and anger. Something bad had happened, and she had every intention of finding out what.

Laxus shifted shape and came to a halt three feet from the bloody corpse. The victim was on her back near a melting drift of snow, a look of horror forever etched on what remained of her face. Her throat had been torn out, chunks of flesh were missing from her shoulders and exposed breasts. Her skirt was rucked up, and her panties torn, visible evidence of the violation he could almost smell.

"Moon's, Musica, what in hell have you done?" As much as he tried to keep his voice even, a hint of revulsion still crept through.

Musica glanced up sharply. His face was a mottled red, the vein in his neck visibly throbbing. "Do you think I'm such a savage I'd do this? By the moon's light -" he thrust a hand through his dark hair. "I like it rough, true, but not like this. Never like this."

"Then why the hell are you here?" he squatted in his heels, studying the bloody rents on the woman's pale skin. The width between the bottom and top jaws was enormous, indicating her attacker was a bigger wolf than normal. Bigger than Musica, at any rate.

"I was looking for her. We were suppose to dance after midnight. She didn't appear, so I went searching."

"You saw or smelled no other wolf close by?" Blood still oozed from the wounds, its smell sharp, metallic. She hadn't been dead that long. His brother couldn't have missed the killer by more than a few minutes.

So why were there no footprints for them to follow? Why was there no scent in the air beyond that of this female and his brother? Musica shook his head. "I heard nothing, saw nothing-other than you and some pretty little hunter over near the pavilion." A mirthless smile touched his mouth. "Thought you had no intention of participating in the dance this time?"

He hadn't. The only reason he was here in the mansion at all was at the request of their Sire, who'd wanted someone he could trust to investigate these killings. Someone within the family, who knew the system but had no true loyalties to the police or justice. Laxus had certainly seen the inside of more than his fair share of jail cells in his youth, so he guessed it was fair to presume he knew how the justice system worked.

He shrugged. "She made an offer too good to refuse." And at least, her presence by his side would maintain his wild reputation and stop suspicions being raised in wrong quarters.

Musica snorted softly. "Certainly looked like it too."

Silver flashed in the short grass to the left of the victim's head. He shifted slightly, gaze narrowing. It was a hair, short and bristly.

"What colour was the victim?"

He felt rather than saw his brother's frown. "From the red pack-why?"

"Then her attacker is silver-unless you were in hunter form when you came here."

"No. But you were."

"I shifted before I reached the body. I doubt this is from my coat."

"It was one of our own?" Shock cracked his brother's deep voice.

"This hair would suggest so."

"It could be a plant."

"Could be." Though he very much doubted it. The rangers already knew it was a silver wolf behind these attacks. Planting one hair didn't make any sense-even though a similar clue had been left at each of the other crime scenes.

Musica cleared his throat. "Do you know this is the fourth attack in as many weeks?"

"Yeah, I'd heard as much." He rose and studied the trees around them. There were three trails from the gate, but all of them led to Ripple Creek. Had the killer continued on to town, or had he simply turned back around and rejoined the dance? There were plenty of fountains inside the grounds where a bloody wolf might wash-though if he were one of their own, slipping into the mansion was a simple matter. Every Dreyar in the pack knew the locations of the secret passages-and there was one near every gate.

"We'd better get the rangers out here."

Musica grunted. "Damn horrible way to end the night's dance."

Laxus raised an eyebrow. "That's the first time anything has stopped you enjoying the moon fever."

"Yeah, but this is the first time I've seen one of my chosen mates dead." He shrugged. "But then, I haven't the tasty morsel waiting for me that you have."

A tasty morsel whose delights he could _not_ enjoy again for awhile yet. He had every intention of being here when the rangers arrived. "Go call the cops. I'll go tend to my morsel."

Musica stepped around the body and clapped a hand on Laxus's shoulder. "Don't take too long. I want you to back up my story, or the rangers are likely to throw my tail in jail. They're desperate for a quick arrest on this one."

"Even rangers can't convict without evidence." Though he'd known one or two in his time who were certainly willing to concoct it.

He returned through the gates and headed for the pavilion. Jasmine stirred the air, and he stopped abruptly, his gaze roaming the trees. She'd been here. Listening. Watching. Why?

He remembered the fear in her eyes, the uncertainty. Remembering thinking she was not the usual type of woman found at these moon dances.

Why had she been around the west side of the mansion? It was far away from the dance, and generally considered out of bounds for all but those belonging to the Dreyar pack. Something clenched deep in his gut. Disappointment, perhaps. Certainly anger.

He was being played.

Someone obviously suspected why he was here. What better way was there to keep an eye on him than to offer something even his jaded tastes could not resist? Lucy was alluring, sensual, a wolf in the full peak of her sexual prowess, and yet oddly, almost innocently, unaware of this fact.

Anger surged through him. He'd taken the bait without thought.

 _Moons, what a fool._

Still, it was a game that worked both ways, now that he was aware of it. Over the next couple of days, he could push their union to the extreme and wait for her to reach her breaking point. She _would_ break, of that he was sure. Their brief mating had confirmed that while she wasn't innocent, she was certainly inexperienced. Sooner or later she'd go running back to whoever was behind this, desperate to end the charade. And once she did, he'd have a suspect to follow.

He took a deep, calming breath, then continued on through the trees.

She was waiting near the pavilion steps, but her welcoming smile faded as he approached. He swallowed his anger, knowing he had to be careful. The Dreyars might be strong telepaths, but the golden pack outstripped even them. He couldn't give her the slightest hint he knew her game-not yet. Not until he'd made her desperate enough to run back to the man behind this rather than away from them both.

And he had to admit, he was rather looking forward to the task. Musica was right-she was an extremely tasty morsel. He wondered what she was being paid to seduce him. It had better be a lot, because she was certainly going to earn her money over the next couple of days.

"Problems?" Her voice faltered, and fear touched her gaze as she backed away a step.

Perhaps he wasn't controlling his anger as well as he thought. "Afraid so."

He caught her arm, stopping her retreat, pulling her close. Her body molded against his, her flesh trembling, flushed with heat. The musky scent of her desire spun around him, fuelling the ache is his loins to greater heights. They'd certainly chosen their bait well-even knowing what she was, he still wanted her more than he'd wanted any wolf in his life.

He cupped a hand to her cheek, holding her gaze as his lips claimed hers. There was nothing gentle in this kiss. It was filled with the ferocity that burned through his body-a hungry, angry possession that took everything she was willing to give and more.

Her eyes widened, and her fear deepened, until it was something he could almost taste. Yet at the same time, the scent of her arousal intensified. She wanted him, even if she did fear him-or feared what he intended to do.

He touched her, caressed her, made her burn with need. When he thrust deep, she moaned in pleasure, but this was a mating that had nothing to do with that emotion, and everything to do with anger and betrayal. It was hard and fast, a union in which he took but did not give.

When he finished, he stepped back. She stared at him, her chest heaving, her lips swollen and red, body still flushed and quivering with unfilled desires. But it was the anger, the reproach, in her wonderful eyes that cut the deepest. "Wait for me here." he said curtly and walked away.

Lucy clenched her fists and stared at his retreating back. It took all her willpower not to pick up the fallen tree branch near her feet and throw it at his stiff, uncaring spine. In the space of ten minutes, he'd gone from a warm and generous lover to a detached, unfeeling rutting machine. A man who cared for nothing but his own needs. And she wasn't sure why.

Nor could she read his thoughts, or taste his emotions to find out why. It was as if a wall stood between them, a wall so high and wide she half-suspected even _he_ had lost touch with his feelings. He was the first wolf she'd ever met whose mind she couldn't read, whose everyday emotions could snap so suddenly beyond even her skills, and it was more than a little scary. She had a bad feeling, she needed to know what was going on in that man's mind.

She rubbed her arms, but it did little to ease the chill racing across her skin. To think only a few moments ago she'd been worried about hungering for his touch so badly that she'd wanted to remain in this den of darkness. What a fool's thought _that_ turned out to be.

She wasn't about to wait here for more of the same. She may have agreed to be his for the remainder of this moon phase, but enough was enough for one night. With the discovery of the fourth victim, this place would soon be crawling with rangers. It was better she leave now, before anyone recognised her. The last thing she wanted was one of them reporting her presence to her parents. _That_ would cause a scene of atomic proportions.

And they certainly wouldn't understand her reasons for coming here. They were old school and believed the dance should be saved until you found that one true mate.

But as much as she wanted to go home _right_ now, she couldn't. Not until she'd taken a closer look at the body-before the rangers took away whatever clues there might be to find. It was doubtful they'd let her go unescorted into Elie's office a second time.

She donned her skirts then resolutely turned and made her way back to the gate. The stench of death almost overpowered her. She took a deep breath, trying to control her stomach's chaotic churning. Her twin faced this type of thing regularly. Surely _she_ could do this once.

She bit her lip and moved closer, stepping in old footsteps so her own wouldn't show. This death was the image of the photos she'd studied in Elie's files-right down to the bite marks on the woman's shoulder and breasts. But it was the damage to their faces that Elie had ringed and questioned. Why such destruction? None of the woman had been extreme beauties-just pleasant. Ordinary. None of them were similar in any way-they all had been different coloured hair, eyes, and facial structures. All belonged to different packs. Yet the man behind this went to great pains to smash in their faces almost beyond recognition. It certainly suggested there was some sort of connection-but if Elie's notes were anything to go by, the rangers had no idea what. And if the Dreyars knew, they certainly weren't telling anyone.

Her gaze slipped down, stopping at the rucked up dress and torn panties. Her stomach turned, and she fought the sudden urge to run from such a brutal representation of invasion. Lord, it was all too easy to imagine the horror, the fear… She swallowed heavily. The visual evidence might indicate rape, but the coroner's report on the last three victims certainly didn't suggest forced sex. All victims had had numerous partners during the night, but there was nothing to indicate rape during death. Which Elie had again questioned. Why was the killer depicting rape if he wasn't actually violating them? It was a puzzled to which there were no answers-as yet.

She raised her nose, tasting the air. Beneath the scent of death lay a myriad of other aromas. Pine and balsam were heavily entwined with the rich bouquet of snow bound loam. Beyond that, a lingering caress of warm spices and freshly cut wood stirred her pulse. Laxus's scent. His brother, who'd been there longer, was a warm touch of muskiness. Beneath that, blood sharp and metallic. And something else-a scent she couldn't pin down but one that seemed vaguely familiar.

She frowned and walked across to the nearest path. No footprints here, either. Nothing to indicate anyone had travelled past here recently. Only that nebulous scent. She studied the path for several moments, weighing her need for answers with her need to escape, then sighed. Closing her eyes, she reached for the wildness. It came in a rush of power that blurred her senses and numbed the pain as it reshaped and changed her body.

Then it was gone, and she padded through the trees on four legs rather than two. The scent led her halfway down the mountain before it disappeared. She sniffed the air and ground, trying to find it again, then noted a flash of silver caught on the branch of a small aspen, just off the path. Hair from a silver coat. Paw prints flirted with a slight drift of snow beyond that then disappeared again. The scent no longer lingered. She nosed about a bit more, but knew it was now a worthless quest.

She glanced over her shoulder, contemplating going back for her clothes. But there were voices up at the top now. Maybe the rangers were here. Maybe Laxus and his brother had returned. Either way, she had to get going. The scent of jasmine would linger, and that could lead to trouble if she wasn't careful. Besides, nothing she'd left at the mansion could be traced back to her. Jasmine was a strong scent, which is exactly why she had chosen it. Not even the strongest of noses would be able to track her true scent through the clothes she'd left up there.

She moved back to the trail and continued down until she reached the stream, then followed that upwind. The water was icy against her paws, but unless she did this they would trace her too easily back home.

As she continued padding through the water, she reached out briefly touching her sister's thoughts. No response, no change, she sighed. At least some good had come out of the night. She'd achieved her aim-she had breached the inner circle of the mansion and attached herself successfully to Laxus. Nor did she have to worry about hungering for his touch. For whatever reason, he'd become as unfeeling and as unresponsive as she could ever want.

So why did she feel such a deep sense of loss?

Moon madness, surely. She ducked into a small waterfall, washing the scent of jasmine from her coat, then continued home.

Two hours later, Laxus made his way through the mansion. The arrival of the rangers had killed the dance, and there were very few people occupying the shadows in the hall. But they would be back tomorrow night. They always were.

He took the stairs two at a time and tried to ignore his vague sense of disgust. He'd taken part in more than his fair share of dances-was still taking part in them, in fact-so he had no right to judge others. Or were his own actions behind that vague, unsettling emotion?

He frowned. Damn it, she'd come here with the sole purpose of seducing him-he was certain of that, if nothing else. He owed her no right to pleasure. And if anything, her willingness to take whatever he dished out without comment proved her guilt. His actions were not in the spirit of the dance, and she had every right to be furious.

But she hadn't said anything. Why? Because she was being paid to stay by his side. Because she would do whatever it took to remain there.

While he had no regrets about his actions, the reproach in her green eyes haunted him. He'd never been like Musica. He didn't like rough-house tactics, found no thrill in fear. Yet tonight he'd tasted both and _had_ enjoyed it.

And it was something he would have to continue. He couldn't play the gentle, caring lover with this woman-not if he wanted to stop these murders sooner rather than later. He had to push her, and keep pushing until she could take no more.

He stopped at the end of the hall and rapped his knuckles on the wood. A gruff voice bid him to enter. He walked inside and slammed the door shut.

Makarov stood near the window, tall, broad and straight of spine, despite seeing more than a century pass him by.

He turned as Laxus entered, one steel-grey eyebrow raised in query. "I would gather from your entrance that the meeting with the rangers did not go well?"

Laxus walked over to the bar and poured himself a stiff drink. "Quite the opposite. Musica's not a suspect, and they found skin and blood under the woman's fingernails, which they believe might belong to the killer."

"It was Melodia who was killed, wasn't it?"

He nodded and downed his drink in one swift gulp. The liquid burned its way down and sat like a weight in his gut.

"Melodia liked pain-and liked inflicting it. I wouldn't be surprised if they find the flesh of more than one wolf under her nails."

Laxus cast a sharp glance his father's way. "You danced with her? Tonight?"

Makarov sighed and turned around. Scratches marred his shoulder blades. "I may be old but the fever still burns through my veins. She and I are old partners."

Just what he needed to hear right now-especially with the rangers insisting on checking all family members for wounds. He poured himself another drink. "Did you dance with any of the other victims?"

"No."

"And my brother's?"

"The first was one of Sting's regular mates, the third one of Rogue's."

Sting the oldest of the four of them, Rogue the youngest. Musica was born between him and Sting. He took another drink and felt the anger begin to slip away. He knew the alcohol offered no real solutions, but right now it drowned the vague sense of self-loathing. Of that, he was glad.

"Someone's targeting the lovers of you and your get."

"So it would seem."

"Any idea why?" He hesitated. "You haven't pissed off any females or their families of late, have you?"

His father's smile was wistful. "My wild days are behind me, I'm afraid. I'm more staid than many of my mates would wish."

 _But not too stupid,_ if those marks were anything to go by.

"Have you told many people I'm here to investigate the murders?"

Makarov shook his head. "None. News spreads fast in a tribe this size, and I didn't want to risk warning the killer-if indeed it is someone from our immediate pack."

"Then you'd better get these rooms swept for bugs, because someone knows."

"I did-yesterday." Makarov hesitated, dark eyes touched with concern. "Why would you think that?"

"Because I've been set up with a mate, and I think she's intending to keep a very close eye on me."

Makarov moved to the bar and poured himself a drink. "So what are you going to do?"

He shrugged. "Nothing."

"I could take her off your hands. Keep her locked away and occupied."

The thought of his father going anywhere near Lucy made his veins boil. She was his to deal with, and _no-one_ was going to touch her expect him.

"I'll take care of her." Despite his best effort to remain calm, the hint of steel was evident in his voice.

Makarov raised an eyebrow. "Be wary of the bait, Son. It might just turn around and snag you."

"I know what I'm doing."

Makarov leaned a shoulder against the wall and regarded him with amusement. "So, what are you going to do with her-besides the obvious?"

"I'm going to force her to stay here for the next five days." He took another drink of whiskey. "Then I'll push her, and keep pushing until she runs back to whoever it was who set her on me."

"The sort of wolf who's willing to profit from the dance is not one who would easily break."

"This one's new to the game, she'll break." And hopefully soon. He had no taste for the game he was about to play.

"And in the mean time?"

He raised his hand, refusing his father's offer to top-off his drink. "I'll start talking to people. See what I can dig up." If this was some sort of revenge killing aimed at his brother's, then someone, somewhere, had to know why. As his father had said, a tribe this size held no real secrets.

"Did anything unusual happen before the first murder?"

"Not that I can remember. Of course, it's hard to keep a finger on every pulse."

Laxus snorted softly. The day his father didn't know exactly what was going on would be the day death claimed him. And the fact he truly had no idea why these murders were happening only made them all the more mystifying.

"You've talked to my brothers?"

"As have you. I dare say the responses we got were the same."

They were-he'd surreptitiously listened in. Musica's shields were not as strong as they should be. "Will you be able to get a copy of the autopsy report? We'll see if Melodia's varies from the previous three."

Makarov nodded. "You do realise you may also be in their sights?"

"If that were the case, why out a watch on me? The mere fact that they have suggests they consider me some danger."

Makarov snorted softly. "Even the most insane wolf alive would consider you a danger."

He raised an eyebrow, a smile touching his lips. "And here I was thinking I've calmed down since my wild days."

"You have," his father said, "But it makes no difference, because what you do now you do with a clear head."

He though of Lucy, of the reproach in her beautiful eyes. "I do what I have to do." He said, with a trace of bitterness.

"I know. And that's precisely _why_ you're considered so dangerous by just about everyone who knows you."

Laxus finished the last of his whisky. It did little to erase the sour taste in his mouth. "When do you think you'll be able to get your hands on that autopsy report?"

Makarov shrugged. "Tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. I don't want to push my source too hard, or he'll start getting a little jumpy."

"Then I'll be back here tomorrow afternoon."

He strode from the room and made his way through the shadow-filled house. But when he reached the pavilion, he wasn't surprised to discover Lucy had fled.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello to everyone. Sorry it took so long for the next chapter of the story. I moved house and lost all my storys for a while but I've now found them so here is the next chapter of Under the Rising Moon. Enjoy

Chapter Three

Lucy rose with the dawn and took a long, hot, scented bath, hoping to erase any scent of Laxus that might linger on her skin.

But she couldn't so easily erase the throbbing in her body, the needy ache that flickered fire through her veins. She wouldn't be surprised if his ears were burning right now, because she'd cursed him long and loud during the night as she'd tossed and turned, trying to find sleep. And yet she knew relief would not come tonight. Not if their second mating was any indication of his intentions.

She sighed. That was exactly what she'd wanted-a quick, passionless rutting, easily forgotten once this phase of the moon was over. She could hardly complain now that she'd gotten her wish. And she probably wouldn't be, if he hadn't first given her a glimpse how truly extraordinary their mating could be.

She closed her eyes and pushed him from her thoughts. His pack belonged to the night, and that's where all thought of him should remain. She would not let him wreck her days as well. Besides, she had far more important people to worry about.

She reached out, carefully touching her sister's thoughts. Though there was no response, the sensation of death hovering all too close had fled. And pictures were beginning to unroll through the darkness of her sister's mind, like fractured images of a violent movie viewed through a broken projector. Relief surged, and tears blurred Lucy's vision. Elie was gong to live. And she was beginning to remember what had happened. Maybe consciousness wasn't that far off after all.

Lucy hoped so. She didn't like this endless silence. Didn't know if she'd want to go on without having Elie's warm, cheerful presence in her mind.

She dressed, swept her hair into a ponytail, then clattered down the stairs to grab a quick breakfast of toast and coffee. Then she snagged her leather jacket from the arm of the chair and made her way outside.

The day had dawned crisp and clear, but the smell of rain was in the air. The weather could change so quickly up here in the mountains, especially in the early spring, and it had caught many a tourist by surprise. Not that Ripple Creek was anywhere near as popular with humans as nearby Aspen – but then, most of the wolf packs who lived here didn't want it to be. Her pack was the exception. Her father even headed the 'bring Ripple Creek into the twenty-first Century' committee.

A smile touched her lips, but just as quickly faded. She'd have to watch her step around her parents today, or the shit really would hit the fan. She thrust her hands into her coat pockets and made her way toward the diner. Her parents lived above it – as had she, until her mother's incessant nagging that she find a mate and settle down had grown beyond a joke it had originally started out to be.

Elie certainly didn't cop half the flack she got – but then, Elie had what her mother considered a worthwhile career. She on the other hand, was simply another waitress in the diner. Which was a job she actually enjoyed doing and had no intentions of leaving.

A bell chimed softly as she pushed open the door. The rich aroma of omelettes and coffee filled the air, stirring her hunger even though she'd already eaten.

"Morning cub," her father called from the kitchen.

She snagged an apron from under the counter, tying it around her waist as she pushed through the double swing doors into the kitchen.

"Morning old one." she dropped a kiss on his leathery cheek.

He swatted her with his spatula, green eyes twinkling good humouredly. "Enough of the old, thank you very much."

She grinned and pulled herself up onto the nearest bench. "Where's mother?"

"Still at the hospital."

"No word from the doctors on Elie's progress?"

His mask of cheerfulness slipped a little. He sighed and thrust a hand through his thinning blond hair. "They said her vital signs were a lot stronger. It's just a matter of waiting now."

Waiting was the one thing she wouldn't be doing. "Her thoughts are stronger, dad. I don't think waking is that far off."

He lightly squeezed her arm. "Thanks. I'll tell mother that."

"Need anything done in here before I start setting tables?"

"I did it all last night. Couldn't sleep. You want an omelette?"

When she nodded, he slapped one onto a nearby plate and began making another. She shifted her leg and grabbed a knife and fork from the cutlery drawer underneath the bench, then dug in.

They ate in silence. When they had both finished, she collected the dishes, throwing them in the dishwasher before pouring them both a coffee.

"Your mother wants to know if you'll come for dinner tonight." he said.

She stared at him for a second, her heart feeling like it was about to race out of her chest. "Is this a request or a demand?"

He grimaced. "You know your mother."

 _A demand. By the moon's light, what on Earth was she going to do now?_

"I -" she hesitated, but knew it was better to tell a half truth than a straight out lie. "I was planning to go out later tonight, but I can come over if dinner is early enough."

He nodded and raised his eyebrow. Curious, but not overly so. "Anywhere in particular?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "They're reshowing _Charade_ at the playbox. Thought I might catch that." she had actually caught it two nights ago, but he didn't know that.

Her dad snorted. "How many times will that make it?"

She grinned. "Only fourteen."

He shook his head. "You're never going to catch a mate if you keep spending your time down at that old movie theatre lusting after ancient actors."

"Well, until I meet a man with Cary Grant's looks, charm and style, that's exactly what I intend to keep doing."

"We're never going to get grand-kiddies, that's for sure." he muttered. He slapped her leg, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Go set the tables before I get inclined to lecture you on the virtues of finding a good man."

Grin widening, she slipped off the bench, planted another kiss on his cheek, and headed off to work.

The morning rush came and went. Cana, a fellow waitress and long-time friend, swept in at eleven, all colour and energy and smiles.

"Such a wonderful day." she all but trilled, shrugging off her coat and grabbing an apron.

"Got lucky last night, did we?" Lucy commented dryly.

Cana grinned. "No, but I'm intending to tonight. Hooked myself a fine specimen last night."

"And you didn't dance? Good grief girl, are you sick?"

"Nope. He was with another mate at the time, and it's not polite to steal, you know."

"Since when has that stopped you?"

Amusement twinkled in Cana's dark blue eyes. "Since his mate was double my size."

Lucy snorted softly. "Good enough reason, I suppose."

"Generally. You fill the salt shakers yet?"

Lucy shook her head, and the two of them got to work. Lunch was busier than normal, thanks to the rising influx of fly-fishermen wanting to take advantage of the early season warmth. At one, there was a brief slowdown in customer traffic, Lucy managed to grab a soda and leaned wearily against the counter. Lack of sleep was beginning to tell. Thank god it was Monday, and the diner was closed tonight.

Then she remembered what she had to do, and a shiver ran down her spine.

Cana joined her near the fridge, leaning her forehead against the cool glass. "Man, I'm hot."

She raised an eyebrow. "Can't wait for tonight, huh?"

Mischief danced in Cana's eyes. "Well, now that you mention it." she hesitated as the doorbell chimed.

"Maybe we should put the 'closed' sign up. Otherwise, I don't think we're going to get out of here today."

Lucy smiled as she glanced toward the door-and felt her smile freeze on her face. It wasn't just any old customer who'd entered. It was Laxus Dreyar.

Cana's soft gasp of admiration seemed a hundred miles away. Lucy could only stare at him, her mind whirling with a thousand different thoughts and fears.

 _What on Earth was he doing here? Was it just chance that brought him here or something more._

He adjusted a small brown-wrapped box tucked under his arm and took off his dark glasses, his gaze skating across the crowded room. _No._ she thought, knees weak, heart straining with fear. It wasn't chance, but something more sinister.

"Now there's a honey I wouldn't mind wrapping my legs around," Cana whispered. "Moon's, what a delicious bod."

 _He certainly had that,_ Lucy thought with a chill. She'd thought him dangerously handsome last night, but now, when he was wearing dark jeans that hugged his legs with such thigh-defining tightness, and a black sweater that fitted his body and seemed to show every ripple of muscle, the impression of a dark angel was doubled. Tripled.

His gaze collided with hers, and something trembled deep inside. Whether it was fear or anticipation, she wasn't sure.

" _Which of the free tables are yours?"_ His mind voice was brusque, unemotional. A tight beam only the two of them could hear-thankfully, given her dad was next door in the kitchen.

" _Booth second from the end."_ She kept her tones as clipped as his.

"God." Cana continued. "Hope he chooses one of my booths."

"Thought you had a date tonight?" she said, hoping Cana was too intent drooling over Laxus to notice the slight tremor in her voice.

"Are you crazy? That honey gives me the slightest indication of interest, and I'm a puddle at his feet."

Lucy watched him stride to the booth and had to admit, if only to herself, that if he'd shown the slightest bit of interest in her, she would have puddled right alongside Cana.

But he wouldn't, she knew that without a doubt. Whatever his reasons for coming here, it had nothing to do with interest or pleasure at least not her, anyway.

Why the hell was he here? She'd promised the nights, not the days. What was he up to? And why did she feel with such sick certainty that his appearance here boded her no good?

He slipped into the booth she'd indicated, and Cana sighed. "Typical, the best looking man I've ever seen walks in here, and he sits at one of your tables." she hesitated, visibly brightening. "Can we swap?"

She would like to, but there was something in his dark blue gaze that suggested retribution if she tried. "Sorry, no can do."

"That's right, be greedy. Keep the hunk all to yourself."

She raised an eyebrow. "And you wouldn't?"

"That's besides the point." Cana waved a dismissing hand and slapped a menu into her hands. "Go get him, tiger."

Lucy took a quick drink of soda, then made her way around the counter and walked towards him. He watched her every step, his dark gaze as impassive as his thoughts. By the time she'd reached the halfway point, her stomach was tumbling worse than a clothes dryer, and she was seriously regretting her quick drink of soda.

"Care for a menu, sir?" she asked, forcing a cheerful smile to her lips.

" _I think we both know what I came here for."_ he took the menu from her trembling hands and casually opened it. It felt like he'd clubbed her in the stomach. She stared at him for a second, knuckles white as she gripped her notepad for dear life.

" _What the hell are you talking about?"_ aloud she said, "The specials today are spicy chicken burgers with chips and salad, or minestrone soup with a small platter of home-made breads."

" _I told you to wait for me last night."_

" _So? You also said you'd take your time to pleasure me more fully, and that didn't happen now did it?"_

Though there was not the slightest flicker in his shuttered eyes, she knew her bard had hit home. His anger boiled around her, a distant touch of thunder only she could hear.

" _You agreed to mate with me. You had no right to leave."_ he studied the menu for a moment, then ordered the chicken burger and fries.

" _And you have no right to come here chasing me."_ "Would you like coffee with that sir?"

" _I have every right."_ "Black, thanks."

She wrote it down, mouth dry. _"What do you mean?"_

" _It's one of the more obscure rules of the dance. If a female who has agreed to a mating does not fulfil her promises, then the male has every right to pursue her and make her."_ he hesitated, his gaze snaring hers with deadly intent. _"No matter where she might be."_

" _Oh God."_ she took a deep breath and released it slowly. Surely he wouldn't. Not here in the diner. Even he couldn't be that wild. That uncaring. But as she returned his gaze, a tremor of fear began deep inside. She may have studied this man, but she didn't know him. Didn't have a clue as to just what he was capable of doing.

" _I agreed to the nights. I intend to uphold that bargain. Not last night you didn't."_

" _We mated."_ if you could call what happened between them the second time.

" _You ran. I was far from finished, believe me."_

The trembling was beginning to work its way down her legs. Her knees felt fluid. She so desperately wanted to tell him she was finished, that she'd had enough of his stupid dance and magnificent but uncaring body. But she couldn't. She was snared by the very net she'd thrown, and she had no choice in this now.

But she had a horrible suspicion she'd better find Elie's attacker fast, before this man destroyed her.

" _Tell me what you want?"_ aloud, she added, "Anything else with that, sir?"

His smile was slow and sexy and sizzled heat across every nerve ending. "Oh yes," he said softly, "But we'll discuss that a little later." _"When the diner isn't as full."_

She flipped closed her notebook and all but ran back to the counter. Where she stood, back to him, taking deep breaths as she tried to control the shaking. She couldn't go into the kitchen like this. Her dad would know something was wrong and be out here in an instant searching for the trouble maker.

Cana came around the counter. "He has that sort of effect one me, too." she said. "And I haven't been anywhere near him."

"I'll be fine. Once I catch my breath." she said. Which certainly wasn't a lie.

"So what does he smell like?"

"Like warm whiskey on a cold night." she said without thinking.

Cana chuckled softly. "You have the hots for him real bad, don't you? Shame your old man is next door. You've dragged our sexy stranger into the storeroom and had a quick dance with him."

 _That_ was certainly a possibility anyway, if the heated promise in his eyes was anything to go by.

"Of course, you'd have to dust yourself off with bicarb after-ward." Cana continued blithely.

Lucy blinked and looked at her. "What?"

"Bicarb absorbs smells, does it not?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So, you don't want your straight laced parents knowing you've actually gone out and enjoyed yourself, do you?" She winked saucily. "Works a treat, believe me. Been doing it for years."

Lucy laughed softly and pushed away from the counter. "You're incorrigible."

"But a hell of a lot more satisfied than you'll ever be if you don't start pulling your act into the twenty-first century." she waved a hand to the kitchen. "Your dad maybe the head of the Future's Committee, but both of your parents are still acting like they were brought up in the fifteenth century."

"Okay for you to say." she said dryly. "You don't have to live with their fifteenth century ideals."

"Neither do you. You moved out two years ago, remember?"

Moving out was easy. Ignoring the twenty-four years spent under their roof, absorbing their influences and ideals, was not. She wasn't even sure she _wanted_ to ignore them.

"I'm trying, Cana, believe me."

"Not hard enough if you let that delicious stranger slip through your fingers."

She forced a smile and walked into the kitchen, handing her dad Laxus's order. When it was ready eight minutes later, she grabbed the plate and his coffee, took a deep breath, and walked over.

"Here you go, sir." she said, placing his plate in front of him.

"Thank you." he let his hand slide across hers as he reached for his cutlery.

It felt like a flame caressing her skin, and she jumped. The coffee cup she still held tumbled sideways, splashing heated brown liquid all over the table and him.

"Oh god, I'm sorry." she said, horrified. "Are you alright? Are you burned?"

His raised eyebrows suggested he didn't believe the sincerity of her words.

"No. Just clean up the table, and me, and it'll be fine."

She pulled the towel from the side of her apron and mopped up the worst of the spill. Cana tossed her another towel, and she finished it. Luckily, the burger had somehow avoided being drenched. She didn't fancy going back into the kitchen right now.

"What about the parcel?" she flickered her cloth in the direction of the brown wrapped box.

"It's fine." he said softly. "But you did miss a bit."

She frowned. "No, I haven-" her voice faded as he shifted revealing the dots of coffee on his sweater and groin.

" _Surely, you don't expect me-"_ The thought froze as she met his gaze. He would. He did.

She took another deep breath, then quickly dabbed the stains from his sweater and jeans. And couldn't help noticing- or feeling- the huge bulge of his excitement. An odd slither of feminine satisfaction ran through her. At least he couldn't deny his interest in her when the evidence of it was so clearly visible.

"Will there be anything else, sir?" she said, voice a little more breathy than she would have liked.

His smile smoked her insides. "Not right now."

She nodded and retreated to the other side of the diner.

"Impressive move." Cana whispered in admiration. "I'll have to remember that one."

Her smile was tight. Cana wasn't likely to believe it had been an accident anymore than Laxus had. The time dragged by. He finished his meal and sipped his coffee, which she kept topped off. Everything she did, everywhere she went, she could feel his gaze on her-a heated caress that promised far more than it would probably deliver.

By three, with the crowd thinning out, she was close to nervous exhaustion. Her dad came out of the kitchen, folding down the collar of the jacket he now wore over his uniform. "I'm heading over to pick mother up at the hospital. You coming?"

She shook her head. She didn't need to go into that sterile place to see her twin. She could see her anytime she liked by simply opening her thoughts. And she would know a lot sooner than any damn doctor when Elie had woken.

"Your mother thinks you should."

"I hate hospitals, you know that." They were too full of pain, too full of misery and hurt, and it overwhelmed even the strongest of her shields. "Elie will understand, believe me."

"Your mother won't."

"Mom doesn't run my life anymore." Though she certainly tried. Lucy had images of being sixty and still crossing swords with her disapproving parents. "I'll finish here and close once the last of our customers leave."

He nodded. "Don't forget dinner."

As if she dared.

"Now's your chance." Cana whispered the minute Jude had walked out the door. "Go chat with that delicious man."

There were three customers still in the diner, and Cana herself. If Lucy was going to confront Laxus's demands, she'd rather do it when they were alone. "I don't know."

"Oh for moon's sake, he's been watching you all afternoon. What have you got to lose?"

 _Nothing but my sanity._ She thought. And what remained of her self-esteem. But she took off her apron, grabbed the coffee pot and cup for herself, and walked across to his booth.

"Sit." he said, voice soft but holding no inflection. She slid into his booth and poured herself a coffee. She didn't refill his, simply shoved the coffee pot his way. A tight smile touched his full lips.

"No longer the charming host, I see."

"I'm on a break. What do you want?" her voice held an edge.

"You," he all but drawled. "Why else would I be here?"

Something in the tone of his voice sent a tingle of anticipation crawling across her skin. Which was ridiculous when the only pleasure he seemed to care about was his own.

"Well, we do make the best burgers in town."

Amusement touched his obsidian gaze, a warmth so fleeting she wondered if she'd imagined it. "But they're not as tasty as the morsel I tried from here last night."

Her cheeks flamed in memory, and she dragged her gaze from his. It was far safer to stare into her coffee than into his soulless eyes. "Tell me what you want?" she repeated.

He crossed his arms and leaned forward. "Look at me." he demanded.

Almost against her will, her gaze rose to his. How could a man with a face so beautiful be so totally devoid of anything resembling humanity.

"My pack is having a fancy dress dance tonight, separate from the main one. You will accompany me, and you will wear the outfit I have in this box."

She stared at him, her stomach churning. "I won't be shared. I don't care what your sordid dance rules say, you _can't_ demand that from me."

Amusement touched his lips, but again held _little_ warmth. "Have no fear there, little wolf. You are mine and only mine, for the remainder of the week."

Relief slithered through her-though it was hardly much comfort knowing she had to submit to his uncaring touch for the next five days. Even if that was what she had planned.

She looked at the box, hating to think what sort of outfit he'd chosen for her. Probably a hooker, if his recent treatment was anything to go by. "What if the outfit doesn't fit?"

"You'll try it on. If it doesn't fit, I'll exchange it."

"I'll take it into the back room and try it on now, if you'd like."

She started to rise, but he clamped a hand on her arm, stopping her. His fingers burned against the chill of her skin, searing heat deep.

"No. Later, when your friend and customers have left."

She sat back down, her gaze locked by his. And knew, with sickening certainty, that he intended to take what he'd missed out on last night. Right here in this diner, where her dad would be returning within the hour.

"Don't." her voice held a note of pleading, but she didn't care. "Please, not here."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you deny it is my right."

" _Damn it, I promised you the nights, not the days. You can't make me do this."_

" _Oh but I can."_ his mind voice was silky.

Her throat was drier than the Sahara. She licked her lips, wishing she could pick up her coffee and throw it in his face. But she couldn't, simply because her hands were shaking so much that most of it would be spilled over the table long before she tossed it at him. "What do you mean?"

He reached across the table, capturing her hand, turning it palm side up. His thumb stroking her wrist, a gentle, almost possessive caress that sent shivers of desire skating across her skin. God, she hated that he could do this to her-and so damn easily.

"When you participate in certain sports, you should always make sure you understand the rules before you start to play."

"Meaning?"

"Remember what I asked, and how you replied, before our first mating?"

The first, and probably only, time of magic between them-and one she wasn't likely to forget, especially over the next few days. "Yeah, so?"

"So, those words were actually an ancient spell of bonding. They allow me to enforce my will on you."

A cold chill ran down her spine. "You're kidding."

He raised an eyebrow. "Am I? Shall we test the theory right now?"

"No." her voice was little more than a breathy whisper of horror. "Not here."

His smile was mirthless. "Reach up with your left hand and undo the top button of your uniform."

Energy slithered across her skin, through her skin, became a noose that slipped around her mind and pulled tight. She fought the compulsion with every ounce of strength she had, but her hand still rose, her fingers trembling as they touched the button.

"Damn you to hell." she muttered, tears touching her eyes. She couldn't let him get away with it, no matter what he did to her afterwards. She wasn't defenceless, and it was about time he realised that. She channelled her fear, her humiliation, into a thin lance of energy and flung it back at him.

It hit him with enough force to throw him back into the seat. His gaze went wide, eyes filled for the briefest of moments by the echo of everything she was feeling. Then his shields slammed home and the lance died.

"What the hell was that?"

"A taste of what you'll get if you try to use the binding on me," she said. "You'll pay for my submissiveness, let me tell you."

He studied her for a moment, then smiled. It held very little warmth. "Thank you for warning me. I'll be sure I stop you from using your gifts before I issue any orders from now on."

She wanted to smack him. She really did. She clenched her fists, but rose and walked away instead.

This was her doing, her mess. What sort of fool was she to believe she could enter into any sort of sexual game with a man like Laxus Dreyar and come away unscathed?

"So?" Cana whispered. "How did it go?"

She forced a warm smile. "I'll tell you tomorrow for now, consider yourself rushed out the door."

"Now _that_ sounds promising." Cana dropped a kiss on Lucy's cheek, then picked up her bag and coat. "I want details. Lots of details. And remember the bicarb."

Once she left, Lucy headed into the kitchen, checking to ensure that everything was turned off, then walked around the building, locking doors and windows. The diner's front door was the last one she locked.

"Don't." he said softly when she reached for the blind. She froze for a moment, then grabbed the base of the blind and yanked it down anyway. A second later, it rolled back up, clattering noisily against the frame. "Telekinesis," he said gravely. "Can be a handy gift in situations like this."

She took a deep breath, but it did little to ease the trembling deep inside. Only trouble was, she knew it wasn't all fear. The full moon was closer tonight, and the wildness was raging to be free. She clenched her fists and turned around.

Without the lights on, the diner was filled with dusky shadows. Evening came early here in the mountains, and of that she was glad. At least it meant if anyone did walk by, there'd be less chance of them seeing what was happening inside the diner.

Her gaze clashed with his and for the briefest moment amusement flashed in the deep depths of his eyes. Then it was gone, locked behind the shutters. "Come over here." he said, his voice was as seductive as the kiss of silk against skin.

She forced her reluctant feet forward. He'd shifted from the booth to a table, turning his chair sideways and stretching out his long legs in front of him. The small parcel still sitting on the booths seat.

"Undress."

He could have been asking her to clear the table for all the emotion he showed. She stared at him, but she knew she had no real choice. Sure, she could make him pay, but his shields were almost as strong as hers. Now that she'd stupidly warned him, they'd undoubtedly remain up and would take most of an empathic attack. Her gift was a weapon best used when a victims mind was wide open and unaware.

And she'd much rather be embarrassed of her own free will than be forced into it. And in the end, no matter how she fought him, he would force her. She slipped her shoes off and slowly began undoing the buttons on the front of her dress. Hunger slipped warm and bright between them, caressing her mind with its heat. She threw her dress onto the other seat, followed quickly by her panties and bra.

His gaze all but devoured her, and pinpricks of desire skidded across her skin. Her nipples puckered, as if in anticipation of his touch, and the longing he'd left unquenched last night stirred anew.

"What now?" she said, crossing her arms. He leaned forward, gripped her elbows, and pulled her forward. "Straddle me."

She did. He was as hard as she was achy, and she couldn't help the fleeting wish that he were as naked as she was.

He raised a hand, skimming his knuckles down her neck and between her breasts. Goosebumps scurried across her skin, and her heart hammered so loudly its beat seemed to echo through the silence.

His hand slipped around her waist then rested against her back, pressing heat into her spine as he gently pushed her forward. His tongue skimmed her skin, trailing fire and sending a delicious shiver of anticipation through her body. He outlined a breast with that liquid touch, circling it gradually working his way inward. He teased the outer edges of that dark circle, but never touched the aching, sensitive centre.

Sweat skittered across her skin, and every muscle quivered. Ached. His whisper soft touch moved to her other breast. By the time he'd finished circling its centre, she thought she was going to die with frustration. He moved on, tasting her collarbone, her neck. Kissed her ear, her cheek before finally claiming her mouth. It was a long, slow possession that left her gasping for breath.

His kiss eventually made its way down her neck. When his mouth closed around one aching nipple, she groaned at the sweet delight of it. He sucked hard, sending glorious waves of pleasure lapping across her skin, then claimed her other nipple, repeating the process, leaving her moaning in enjoyment.

"What are you doing for dinner?" he whispered, his breath searing her skim as he kissed her throat.

She blinked at the unexpected question. "Eating with my parents." The slither of unease surfaced again. "Why?"

"Don't you think they should met the man you're spending the next five days with?"

She stared at him, her throat so dry it ached. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I want you by my side, and in my bed, night and day."

Horror slid through her. She tried to push away, tried to stand but his hand held her securely in place. "You can't. I won't." And yet deep down, she had to acknowledge this was the chance she'd been looking for. It would offer her the freedom, night and day, she needed to roam the mansion, talk to people within the pack-and hunt down the killer.

But the cost would be her parents respect. Was that too high a price to pay?

She remembered the torn and bloodied remains of the woman who'd been killed last night. Remembered the way her sister had looked, swathed in bandages, so small and frail and pale against the antiseptic brightness of the hospital. Relived the horror of the moment she'd shared with her twin when the wolf had attacked her.

Was the cost too high? She couldn't honestly say.

"You have no right to demand this."

He raised an eyebrow, a gesture that was both eloquent and arrogant. "No right, but certainly the will."

"You must know that my parents are old-school." Desperation touched her voice, but right then she didn't care. "They don't believe in the dance or mating for pleasure. Something like this will kill them."

He still caressed her, sending tremors of longing rolling through her. It was as if she were a well-tuned instrument designed only for his touch. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't kill her desire.

"Would you rather I wait until dark, walk in that diner of yours and demand you uphold your promise to mate with me right there and then."

Her stomach clenched tight, and for a moment she thought she was going to throw up. "You wouldn't." But even as she said it, she knew he would. He was the wildest of the wild, and seemed overly eager to live up to his reputation-no matter what that might do to her.

And she had no one to blame but herself. She licked her lips, searched desperately for an argument that might work. "I have to work here during the day."

"You've never taken a vacation? Hasn't anyone ever filled in for you?"

"That's besides the point."

"No, it's not. I want you, and I shall have you. I will play the charming suitor if you wish, but you will leave with me after dinner, and you will stay with me the next five days."

She stared at him helplessly. Part of her did want this-and not just because of her promise to Elie. His touch affected her like no other, and she hungered for all he had to give. She was a wolf after all, with a wolf's desires and urges-however repressed she might wish them to be.

"Why?"

"Because I find myself craving to spend more time with you."

He shrugged nonchalantly, and his casualness hurt her, though she had no idea why. What else did she really expect from the man? This coldness was the very reason she'd chosen him.

"After that second excuse for a mating last night? I find that hard to believe."

He shrugged again. "I've an extremely high sex drive. Sometimes it will not wait to pleasure my partner."

"Some might call that selfishness."

"Some do. What's your answer?"

She bit her lip, studying him in indecision, even though, in the end, she had no real choice. No matter what she did now, she was going to lose.

 _Lord, how she wished she'd never started down this crazy path. Wished she'd simply sat back and let the rangers do their job. But she hadn't, and it was too late for regrets now._

"Only if you play the part of a suitor. As least give my parents the illusion you really do care for me."

He brushed a kiss across her lips. "How much of a suitor do you want me to be?"

His touch moved down to her moistness and probed gently. She bit her lip and fought the desire to press into his caress.

"A new found friend or lover?"

"Friend," she said, voice a little more than a throaty whisper. And hated herself for wanting him so.

"Done," he placed both his hands on her waist and set her on to her feet. "You'd better be getting dressed then, because your parents will probably be back soon."

She stared at him, aching, trembling, and totally unable to believe he'd done it to her again.

"You're a bastard, you know that?"

"Been called a lot worse than that in my life." The shutters were well down in his eyes, his face impassive. If it wasn't for the rather obvious bulge in his jeans, she would have thought him totally unaffected by their little petting session.

 _Moons, how she wished she could read this man-look beyond the wall he'd raised so effectively and see, or feel, what he was really thinking._

"I'll wait for you out back, if you'd like. Don't forget to bring your costume along when you come out."

He walked away, stride lone and oh-so-casual. Once again she had to resist the urge to throw something at his stiff, arrogant back.

But she couldn't help thinking that bringing him to dinner would at least get her mother off her back for a while. He was certainly wolf enough to satisfy even her mother's high ideals when it came to a suitable mate-even if he wasn't man enough to satisfy _her._


End file.
